


Death is a Celebration

by Accident



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Nana Holmes dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accident/pseuds/Accident
Summary: Sherlock's grandmother passes away and John helps him deal with it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merve/gifts).



> This fic is for my good friend Merve. It is a birthday present and also a memorial to her grandmother that passed recently. I am sorry for your loss, darling. I hope that this fic makes you smile because I know that is what your grandma would have wanted you to do. With all my love, Jay.

Sherlock had gotten the call late in the night. He knew what it was going to be. He answered the phone calmly and the nurse on the other end confirmed his suspicions. She was gone. His grandmother had passed. It didn’t feel real to him. He didn’t know how to feel. 

Sherlocks hands shook as he hung up the phone. He’s sad of course. But it was a happy kind of sad. Like when you finish a good book. You loved the journey and every minute of holding that book in your hands. Though when you finish that final sentence you can’t help that pang in your heart of a ride well spent. That is how Sherlock felt. 

Sherlock loved is grandmother to death. He still loved her and he always would. He knew she was in a better place. He knew she wasn’t in pain anymore and that her sickness was gone. He was happy. It felt odd to say that but he did. He felt happy. Not happy that she was gone of course but happy she was at peace. Sherlock was her little honey bee. She always called him that. 

Sherlock sat on his bed till the sun rise, searching through his mind palace. He was achieving every memory he had of her. He laughed softly and cried some as he went through the memories one by one. He remembers crying in her arms after Redbeard died. He remembers laughing as she told him stories about the adventures she had in her youth. They were very similar he realizes. They both had curly hair and kaleidoscope eyes. However, it went beyond their physical features. They loved mysteries and intrigue. But most of all they loved people. She loved her husband. She always told Sherlock how lucky she had been to find him. To find her soulmate. She told Sherlock that he would find his one day. She was sure of it.

Evey Holmes traveled the world. She studied abroad for most of her uni years. She was an English major but she was fluent in many other languages which she loved passionately. She taught Sherlock French and German as well as English. She sparked a passion for learning in him and he has never stopped devouring knowledge ever since.

Sherlock wiped his face and took a deep breath. He smiled. He grinned because he knew that was what she would have wanted. He chuckles softly and got up. After showering he gets dressed in sky blue shirt, his Nana’s favorite color, and black tailored slacks. 

“Morning, John.” Sherlock hums and smiles as he leaves his room.

“Morning. What are you all dressed up for so early?” John asks as he makes tea.

“Death is an interesting thing, John.” Sherlock says, ignoring his question.

“Alright..” John raises a brow, not sure where Sherlock is going with this.

“She’s gone, John. Moved on. Departed. Bought the farm. Kicked the bucket.” Sherlock muses, smiling.

“Who’s died, Sherlock?” John asks softly, concerned.

“My grandmother.” Sherlock smiles.

“Oh.. Oh, Sherlock.. I’m so sorry.” John frowns, knowing Sherlock and his grandmother were close. 

“Don’t be sorry, John. She’s not in pain anymore. She’s not sick anymore.” Sherlock smiles.

“I’m glad then.” John smiles softly, handing Sherlock a his mug of tea.

“I know it must sound odd. I’m smiling and not crying. That’s odd right? It’s not a normal person thing.” Sherlock frowns a bit.

“I don’t think it’s odd at all. I think it is beautiful. Death is just as much a part of life was life is part of death. The end of her life does not mean the end of her. It isn’t sad. It’s something to rejoice.” John hums.

“That.. That’s it, John! That is exactly what it is!” Sherlock grins. “My conductor of light.” He smiles and John blushes a bit.

“I’m glad I could help.” John smiles softly, thankful Sherlock didn’t notice his blush.

“Will.. Will you come with with me to the funeral?” Sherlock asks quietly.

“Of course. Of course I will.” John nods.

“Thank you.” Sherlock smiles, sipping the tea John handed him.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“It’s a great turn out.” John hums as he sits next to Sherlock in the front row of the church, looking back at the full pews with people even standing in the back because the seating ran out.

“Nana was a very well liked woman. Adored by all who met her.” Sherlock smiles softy, looking at the black casket with silver filigree on the alter. He chuckles softly at the understated elegance of the victorian gothic that was his grandmother’s style. He breathes slowly, letting the smell of dark red roses fill his lungs. Yes, this was Nana through and through. Powerful and elegant without even lifting a finger.

Sherlock looks over at his brother who is comforting his mother while his father sits on the other side of her, trying to console her as well. Sherlock frowns a bit. He doesn’t understand why everyone looks so sad. This isn’t what Nana would have wanted in the least. He’s completely tuned out what the priest is saying, probably something to the notion of heaven or what not. Sherlock is sure that’s where his Nana would end up. In heaven. At least that is what he thinks he would believe if he believed that sort of thing. 

“You doing okay?” John asks softly, squeezing Sherlocks knee.

“I’m fine.” Sherlock nods, because he is. He is fine. 

“And now we’ll have her grandson come up and say a few words. Sherlock, if you will.” The priest steps away from the pulpit.   
“John.. John I can’t. I don’t know what to say. You go.” Sherlock whispers.

“I can’t, Sherlock. She’s your gran.” John frowns but Sherlock gives him a pleading look and John caves. “Alright.” He nods and steps up to the pulpit.

“Umm.. Afternoon, everyone. As you can probably tell I am not the aforementioned grandson but I am his friend. I’m not exactly sure what qualifications that gives me to speak in front of you all today but here I am.” John gives a smile and the congregation laughs softly. 

“So we’re here today to celebrate the life of an amazing woman. Yes, I did say celebrate. Life is an incredible mystifying thing. Mrs. Holmes’ lived a full brilliant life. I’m sure you all know much more about her than I can ever hope to. So I’ll tell you this, I may not know her very well but I know her grandson, Sherlock. I’d like to say that I’m his best friend because he is mine. He is brilliant and amazing. All these qualities I’m sure came from her.” John grins and they laugh. Sherlock smiles, so happy John is there for him.

“So the celebrating bit. I know that we’re all sad because we have seemingly lost a dear friend and family member but I feel differently. I feel like we’ve all gained a piece of mind that she is no longer in pain. No longer suffering. So this is not a sad time. This is a time of joy. A time to come together and remember her life. To remember her life and what she meant to all of us. I know we all grieve in out own way and I’m not telling you not to be sad. All I’m saying is that don’t be blinded by grief but see through it to the unadulterated liberation that she was gifted with. Liberation that let her pass with the knowledge that she lived to the fullest and that she was at peace knowing her time had come. Knowing that she would always be remembered in our minds and in our hearts. So cry if you need to and smile when you can because life is short no matter how long we live” John smiles.

“I only met her once and I can tell you all truthfully she was something else. She was vibrant and so funny. She thanked me and I asked her why. She just laughed and smiled, telling me I’d find out in the future. And..” John bites his lip and looks to Sherlock. “And I think I know what she meant.”

In that moment Sherlock sees it. He sees the locked up emotion behind John’s eyes. He sees the love John has for him. He gasps softly and his eyes widen. 

The rest of the service is honestly a blur to him. He doesn't hear any of the other speakers or any of the condolences from the people that hug him as everyone leaves.

All sherlock can focus on is John. John who stays by his side the entire day. John who grounds him when he feels like drifting away. John who loves him. John…

“John..” Sherlock says softly when they finally arrive back at baker street.

“Yes, Sherlock?” John asks softly as he hangs their coast.

“I do, too.” Sherlock nods.

“You do too what?” John asks, sounding confused as he goes to make tea.

Sherlock stands behind him and presses his forehead to the back of John’s neck. John stays very still as he holds onto the counter tightly.

“Say it.. Please..” Sherlock whispers.

“I.. I love you..” John whispers, closing his eyes.

“I love you, too..” Sherlock whispers, wrapping his arms around John as the kettle boils. Neither of them move to shut it off.

In life we grow to live and in death we live to know that life was good after all…


End file.
